The American Gentleman's Guide to Politeness and Fashion / or, Familiar Letters to his Nephews

"'Then none was for a party;
Then all were for the state;
Then the great man helped the poor,
And the poor man loved the great;
Then lands were fairly portioned;
Then spoils were fairly sold:
The Romans were like brothers,
In the brave days of old.'"

The enthusiasm with which the appreciating reader read this spirited passage, did not prevent my observing that she held her handkerchief closely pressed upon the back of the exquisite antique binding of the volume, in the hope, as I inferred, of drying the stain of wet which I noticed, at once attracted her attention when she took up the gift. The open note, as it lay upon the table, disclosed a torn, ragged edge, as if it had been carelessly severed from a sheet of foolscap.

Whatever her reflections, the young lady had too much instinctive delicacy to comment upon these peccadilloes, and so, of course, I could institute no defense of my friend. I, therefore, tacked, as a sailor would say.

"Howard's a noble fellow," said I, "in spite of his little oddities, but he has one fault, unfortunately, which I fear will prevent his winning much favor with the ladies."

"What is that?" inquired my young auditor, in a tone of seeming indifference, but with a heightened color, and an eager glance.

"He is poor!"

"Do you mean that he lives by his wits, as the phrase is?" asked my hostess.

"By no means! simply this:—Parker began the world without a dollar, and has had, thus far, to 'paddle his own canoe,' as he expresses it, against wind and tide."

"That is quite the best thing I ever knew of him!" exclaimed Rebecca, with animation. "It does him great credit, in my estimation! But, Colonel, I cannot agree with you in thinking Mr. Parker, poor!"

"No?"

"No, indeed! in my regard, no man in our country is poor, who possesses health, education, and an unblemished reputation!"

In the library of the only representative of the British government in this country—and he was the lineal representative, as well, of one of the oldest, wealthiest and most aristocratic of noble English families—whose guest I remember to have been, I found great numbers of books, which he had brought with him from home, but they were arranged upon simple, unpainted pine shelves, put up for convenience, while the owner should remain at Washington. He brought his books, because he wanted them for constant use—but, though accustomed to the utmost luxuriousness of appointment at home, he did not dream of bringing furniture across the Atlantic, or of apologizing for the absence of more than was demanded by necessity in his temporary residence.

I remember, too, to have heard it said that one of the recent governors of the Empire State had not a single article of mahogany furniture in his house at Albany; and yet, nobody complained of any want of hospitality or courtesy on his part, while making this discovery. The simple fact was, that, being without private fortune, and the salary of his office insufficient for such expenditures, he could not afford it—and no man, I believe, is bound to run in debt, to gratify either the expectations or the vanity of his political constituents.

As a contrast to these anecdotes, how does the following incident impress you?

Walking down Broadway, in New York, one bright morning with a distinguished American statesman, he suddenly came to a full halt before a show-window in which glittered, among minor matters, a superb candelabra, in all the glory of gilding and pendants.

"That's a very handsome affair, Lunettes," said my companion; "let us step in here a moment."

We entered accordingly. A salesman came forward.

"What is the price of that candelabra, in the window?" inquired the statesman.

"Six hundred dollars," replied the young man.

"Pack it up and send it to M——," replied my friend, turning to go.

"And the bill, sir?"

"You may send the bill to me—to D—— W——, at Washington."

I happened to know that the great man had, only within a day or two, been released, by the generosity of several of his personal friends, from an embargo upon his movements that would otherwise have prevented his eloquent thunder from being heard in the National Senate!

The massive head and stately bearing of John Marshall always rise before my mind's eye, when I recall this characteristic illustration of his native manliness:

The Chief Justice was in the habit of going to market himself, and carrying home his purchases. He might frequently be seen at sunrise, with poultry in one hand and vegetables in the other.

On one of these occasions, a young Northerner, who had recently removed to Richmond, and thus become a fellow-townsman of the great Virginian, was heard loudly complaining that no one could be found to carry home his turkey.

The Chief Justice, who was unknown to the new-comer, advancing, inquired where the stranger lived and on being informed, said, very quietly—"That is on my way; I will take it for you;" and receiving the turkey, walked briskly away.

When he reached the house that had been designated, Marshall awaited the arrival of the owner, and delivered up his burden.

"What shall I pay you?" inquired the youth.

"Nothing, whatever," replied the biographer of Washington, "it was all in my way, and not the slightest trouble—you are welcome;" and he pursued his course.

"Who is that polite old man?" asked the young stranger of a by-stander.

He was answered—"That is John Marshall, Chief Justice of the United States."

I well remember, too, how often I used to join my old friend, Chief Justice Spencer, of New York, as he climbed the long hill leading to his residence, at Albany, with a load of poultry in his hand. And I dare say his great-hearted brother-in-law, De Witt Clinton, often did the same thing. Certain I am, that he was the most unostentatious of human beings, as simple and natural as a boy, to the end of his days.

I have the vanity to believe that you will not have forgotten the little sketch I gave you, in a previous letter, of my interesting young friend Julia Peters. Not long after my brief acquaintance with her—that is, within a year—I received a newspaper neatly inclosed, and sealed with a fanciful device, in prettily-tinted wax, which being interpreted for me by a fair adept in such matters, was said to read—"Love, or Cupid, carrying a budget to you from me." The following paragraph was carefully marked:

"MARRIED:—In the Church of the Holy Innocents, in this village, on Tuesday, May 12th, by the Rev. B—— Y——, St. John Benton and Julia A. Peters, daughter of the late Fitz-James Peters, Esq., of Princeton, N. J."

Then followed this sentence, in large characters:

"The Printer and the 'carrier' acknowledge a bountiful receipt of superb wedding-cake.- - - May every blessing attend the happy pair!"

I, too, had my share of the wedding-cake, accompanied by very tasteful, simple cards, as well as a previous invitation to the wedding, written jointly by Mr. and Mrs. Y——, and in terms most flatteringly cordial, and complimentary. Mrs. Y—— and I had, by this time, exchanged letters more than once. I will give you, as a specimen of the agreeable epistolary style of my fair friend, the following communication, which reached me some two or three months after the marriage of her sister.

"Rectory, ——, Aug. 22d, ——.

"Dear Col. Lunettes:—

"I avail myself of my very first leisure to comply with the request contained in your most kind and acceptable letter of last week. Whether your amiable politeness does not overrate my capacity to write a 'true woman's letter—full of little significant details and particularities,' remains to be seen. I will do my best, at least, and 'naught extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.'

"I hardly know where to begin, in answer to your query about the 'possibility of the most economical young people managing to live on so small an income.' The truth is, Julia and I, thanks to a judicious mother, were practically educated, which makes all the difference in the world in a woman's capacity to 'make the worse appear the better reason' in matters of domestic management. The house they live in is their own. Mr. Benton, fortunately, possessed the means of fully paying for it (he was entirely frank with Mr. Y—— about all these matters, from the beginning) and Julia was able to furnish it simply, though comfortably. It is a small establishment, to be sure,—a little house and a little garden, but it is their own, and that gives it a charm which it would not otherwise possess. They feel that they will have the benefit of such improvements as they may make, and it is wonderful what an effect this consciousness produces. The house was a plain, bald-looking building enough, when Fitz-James bought it. Julia said it would be a bold poetic license to call it a cottage!—but he has studied architecture, at intervals, as he has had time, with a view to future advancement, and so he devised, and partly constructed, tasteful little ornaments to surmount the windows, and a very pretty rustic porch in front. The effect was really almost magical when united with the soft, warm color that took the place of the glaring white of which every one is becoming so tired. It is quite picturesque, I assure you, now. As a romantic young lady said of it—'it is like the cottages we read of,—quite a picture-place.' But, pretty and tasteful as it is outside, one must become an inmate of Julia's little Eden, to know half its claims to admiration. It is just the neatest, snuggest, cosiest little nest (by the way they call it 'Cosey Cottage,' as you will please remember when you write, dear sir) you can imagine. There is nothing grand, or even elegant, perhaps, but every part is thoroughly furnished for convenience and comfort, and everything corresponds. It is not like some city houses I have been in, where everything was expended in glare and display in the two parlors—'unwisely kept for show,' and up-stairs and in the kitchen, the most scanty, comfortless arrangements. Julia's carpets and curtains are quite inexpensive, but the colors are well chosen for harmony of effect. (Julia rather prides herself upon having things artistic, as she expresses it, even to the looping up of a curtain.) There is a sort of indescribable expression about the little parlor, which, by the way, they really use, daily—her friends say—'How much this is like Julia!' Some of Julia's crayon heads, and a sketch or two of Mr. Benton's are hung in the different rooms, and they have contrived, or rather imitated, (for I believe St. John said it was a French idea) the prettiest little brackets, which are disposed about the walls and corners of the parlor. They are only rough things that her hus band makes up, covered by Julia, with some dark material, and ornamented with fringe, costing almost nothing, but so pretty in effect for supporting vases of flowers or little figures, or something of that kind. Then there is a tiny place, opening from the parlor, dignified with the name of library, where Julia and Benton 'draped,' and 'adjusted,' and re-draped, and re-adjusted, to their infinite enjoyment and content, and somewhat to my amusement, I will confess to you, dear sir. Indeed they trot in harness, to borrow one of St. John's phrases,—most thoroughly matched, as well as mated, and go best together. They think so, at least, I should infer, as they always are together, if possible. Julia helps Benton in the garden—holds the trees and shrubs while he places them, and ties up the creeping-roses, and other things he arranges over the porch, and around the windows, and assists him with the lighter work of manufacturing rustic seats and stands, and baskets for the garden and summer-house; and Benton (who has quite a set of tools) puts up shelves and various contrivances of that sort, and did help to lay the carpets, etc., Julia told me. Indeed, while I was with them, Mr. Benton's daily life constantly reminded me of the beautiful injunction—'Let every man show, by his kind acts and good deeds, how much of Heaven he has in him.'

"But I only tire you, dear sir, by my poor attempts to portray my sister's simple happiness—you must see it for yourself! I make no apology for the minuteness of my details,—if they seem puerile, Colonel Lunettes has himself to thank for my frank ness, but I have yet to learn that my valued friend says, or writes, what he does not mean.

"I have left to the last—because so pleasant a theme,—some reference to Julia's pride and delight in your beautiful bridal-gift to her. She has, no doubt, long since, written to thank you; but I cannot deny myself the gratification of telling you how much she values and enjoys it,—from my own observation. It is really noticeable too, how exactly it suits with all the other table appointments she has—(unless perhaps it is a shade too handsome) only another proof of Colonel Lunettes' fine taste! Mr. Y——, to tease Julia, asked her one evening, when she was indulging in a repetition of her usual eulogy upon the gift and the giver, whether she really meant to say that she preferred a china tea-pot, sugar-bowl, and cream-cup, to silver ones. 'Indeed I do,' said she, 'a silver tea-service for me, would be "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought!" It would not suit my style at all.' Julia says she shall never be perfectly happy until she makes tea for Colonel Lunettes, from her beautiful china, and Mr. Benton says Colonel Lunettes is the only man in the world of whom he is jealous! Upon this, there always follows a gentle (very gentle) twitching of St. John's whiskers, of which, I will add, by way of a description of the personnel of the young man, he has a pair as black and curling as Mr. Y——'s,—indeed, I must concede that Julia's husband is almost as handsome as my own!

"We are all eagerly anticipating the fulfillment of your promise to visit our beautiful valley, while robed in the gorgeous hues of Autumn. Mr. Y—— and I, are arranging everything with reference to so agreeable an event;—'We will go there, or see that,' we say, 'when Colonel Lunettes comes.' Julia, too, is looking forward, with much pleasure, to welcoming so coveted a guest. 'I hope we shall be able to make the Colonel comfortable, in our quiet way,' she always says, when speaking of your promised visit; 'you, and Mr. Y——, are so used to have the bishop, and other celebrities, that you don't know anything about being nervous, at such times; but poor me—just beginning, and such a novice!' Upon this, her husband always appeals to me, to say whether I have nicer things to eat, anywhere, 'even at home,' and whether any sensible man could not content himself, even in such a 'little box,' for a few days, at least; especially, when well assured how happy and honored a certain young lady will be, on the occasion. And I must say, for Julia, that her versatile powers are fully illustrated in her housekeeping. Mr. Y—— declares that nobody but his wife can make such bread—a perfect cure for dyspepsia! and, as for the pumpkin-pies!—well, upon the whole, he has decided that we ought to spend Thanksgiving at 'Cosey Cottage.'

"I have omitted to mention that, at Julia's earnest instance, we left her little namesake—'Colonel Lunettes' pet,' as she delights to call herself—with her, when we were there. I hardly knew how to give her up, though but for a few weeks, even to her aunt. Just before we came away, I said to her, 'I hope Aunt Julia, and Uncle St. John, won't spoil you, my darling; your aunt has promised to scold you, when you are naughty.' 'Oh, but 'ou see, mamma, I don't never mean to be naughty,' she answered, almost stopping my breath with her little chubby arms clinging about my neck.

"Persuaded, dear sir, that you will have 'supped your full,' even to repletion, of a 'true woman's letter,' I will only add to Mr. Y——'s kindest remembrances and regards, the sincere assurance that I am, as ever,

"Your attached and grateful
"Cecilia D. Y——

"Col. Henry Lunettes."

And now, my dear nephews, that the blessing of Heaven may rest upon you, always, in

"Life's earnest toil and endeavor,"

is the affectionate and heartfelt prayer and farewell of your

Uncle Hal.

THE END.

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Inconsistencies have been retained in formatting, spelling, hyphenation, punctuation, and grammar, except where indicated in the list below:

The American Gentleman's Guide to Politeness and Fashion / or, Familiar Letters to his Nephews

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